The Great Game Femlock
by EmrysTheMerlin
Summary: Fem Sherlock. When an explosion across the street from 221B Baker Street sets Sherlock on the trail of a bomber John will have to try and keep up with her. The game is on as they race against the clock to stop this mad man. But what does he want with Sherlock?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Fem! Sherlock is a blast to write so here comes another one. I am doing the TV series as fem! Sherlock but I'm changing things up a bit. I do not own anything. I'm starting with the great game because it's my favorite. Here we go!**

1. Gas Explosions

"Look at it Mrs. Hudson. Calm quiet peaceful. Isn't it hateful?" Sherlock grumbled as she watched John leave. Mrs. Hudson watched her sympathetically from the doorway, Sherlock might be the smartest person alive but she was rubbish with feelings.

"Something will turn up soon, a nice murder, that'll cheer you up Sherlock." It was then she noticed the state of her wall.

"What have you done to my bloody wall!? This is coming out of your rent young lady!" Sherlock smiled and turned away from the window. Wandering through the sitting room towards her violin she paused hands on hips. She felt something change in the air right before the world behind her exploded.

On her way to the ground she realized several things. The explosion was localized, across the street in the empty flats, so there should be no or at least few casualties. The windows had blown in on either side of her, glass stinging her arms through her robe. Mrs. Hudson was on the stairs and would be out of shrapnel range. She however would have scratches all up her arms and a few on her back and legs as well. A split second of mathematical calculation told her she would come down hard laying flat on her front but not before her head met the coffee table with quite a bit of force. The injury would be minimal at best, a large bruise, and a cut where the corner met her head and a minute concussion. But that was as far as she got before the inevitable thump spike of pain and following blackness.

Mrs. Hudson froze on the stairs as the building shook and the sound of shattering glass met her ears nearly instantly followed by a loud thump and a groan of pain. As fast as her bad hip would carry her she raced up the stairs and gasped aloud at what she saw. Sherlock was laid out flat on the floor, around her shattered glass sparkled in the light from the fire across the street. Sherlock was bleeding from a small gash on the right side of her forehead around which a large bruise was forming. Mrs. Hudson was about to call out for John when she remembered that he wasn't home. She looked around and on instinct snatched up Sherlock's mobile. She quickly scanned through Sherlock's contacts and clicked on one that looked like the best idea.

"Sherlock, not now. I don't have a case for you and there's just been an explosion in central London my higher ups are going mad as it is." The voice that interrupted him was not the one he expected. First off whoever it was, was crying.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you detective inspector Lestrade but this is Sherlock's landlady Mrs. Hudson. It's Sherlock, she... she's hurt. There was an explosion across the street and Sherlock was in the sitting room when the windows blew in. She's bleeding. I don't know what to do." Lestrade swore under his breath and snatched up his coat.

"I'm on my way. Where's John?" Mrs. Hudson sniffed.

"He and Sherlock had an argument, he went out I don't know where."

"Right, I'm on my way now. Here's what I need you to do Mrs. Hudson. Take a deep breath, find a clean rag and try to stop the bleeding. Be careful of the glass; don't want you getting hurt as well."

"Alright. Thank you detective inspector." She hung up. Lestrade made it to Baker Street in record time, ducking under the police line he flashed his badge at the men he knew from the yard and quick stepped over to one of them. He explained why he was here as quickly as possible and she, a one detective Clara Oswin, nodded at him.

"Go ahead Greg, there's not much we can do here till the fires out anyway." He nodded his thanks and knocked on the door of 221 Baker Street. A few anxious minutes later the door was opened by the little old lady who rented Sherlock and John's flat to them. She was sniffling.

"She's upstairs." He nodded and raced up the stairs. Glass crunched under his shoes as he rushed across the living room and eased Sherlock into a sitting position. She was out cold with quite the goose egg on the right side of her forehead. The cut there was bleeding lightly but didn't seem to be anything to serious though it was rather deep. She had some very minor cuts on her back and a few long scratches on her arms a medium sized piece of glass was caught near her left shoulder and Lestrade gently picked her up and laid her down on her stomach on the miraculously glass free couch.

"Mrs. Hudson I'll need a towel and some bandages. And maybe a bin if you've got one." She nodded and rushed about. When he had what he needed he handed his mobile to Mrs. Hudson.

"In my contacts find Kelly McAllen. She's a paramedic, she owes me a favor. Call her tell her what happened. She'll get here pretty quick." As she made the call he carefully pulled out the shard of glass out of Sherlock's shoulder and began to wrap her shoulder in a temporary bandage. He nearly jumped out of his skin when she spoke.

"You're doing that wrong you know."

"Jesus Christ Sherlock! Don't scare me like that!" She laughed and only a little of the pain she was in showed through on her face as she turned to look at him.

"What are you doing here detective inspector?" He frowned.

"Why don't you work it out Sher?" She looked him over once.

"Well judging by your actions and the glass on your shoes you arrived shortly after the explosion, before anyone had a chance to clear up. You're on the homicide team at Scotland Yard so you aren't here to investigate said explosion. So someone called you. John's not home, so it had to have been Mrs. Hudson. She could have called the yard itself to report the explosion, but as I'm not sitting in an ambulance at the moment surrounded by incompetent news reporters all clamoring to know what happened it's unlikely. More likely she came upstairs to check on me and found me on the floor. My phone was sitting on the small table near the door and so would have been closer than the landline, either in the kitchen or Mrs. Hudson's flat. She'd have grabbed it and looked for someone to call. Seeing as you are listed under DI Lestrade in my contacts she would have instantly associated you with the yard and thus someone who could be trusted in a situation like this, and no I haven't got a nasty concussion. I am a bit dizzy though." Lestrade nodded and helped her down to the ambulance. She didn't protest too heavily which worried him. She wobbled and he caught her as she fell. Mrs. Hudson gasped.

John groaned rubbing his neck. Sarah grinned and flicked on the TV.

"Told you, you should have slept on the lilo." He shook his head.

"No I'm fine. I slept alright. My phone seems to have died though. Lucky, Sherlock's probably been texting all night." Sarah's smile slipped slightly.

"Oh well maybe next time I'll let you kip on the end of my bed." John glanced up at her.

"And the time after that?" She grinned slightly then stood.

"How about some breakfast?"

"That'd be lovely thanks." Her grin widened.

"Well you'll have to make it yourself. I'm going to have a shower." She sauntered out of the room and john stared after her for a moment until a movement on the telly caught his eye. He quickly cranked the volume.

'There's been a massive explosion in central London. Reports have stated that there are no confirmed deaths but at least three people are in the hospital this morning.' John recognized the street instantly he snatched up his coat and called out to Sarah.

"I'm sorry Sarah I've got to go!" She stepped out of the shower as she heard the door slam closed. John practically vaulted out of the taxi. After quickly paying the driver and ducking under the police line explaining that he lived in the apartment right across from the explosion. He rushed up the stairs and banged into the flat. He froze in the doorway.

"Morning John." Sherlock didn't even look up instead twanging one of the strings on her violin. He looked her over and felt guilty, very guilty. Above Sherlock's right eye was a large dark bruise. Inside the bruise was a cut that had at least three stitches in it. Sherlock's button up shirt was open a few more buttons than normal revealing the edge of a clean white bandage that seemed to cover her left shoulder, along with quite a bit of cleavage and the edge of her black subtlety lacy bra. She continued watching the seat across from her. John glanced at it and found her older brother Mycroft sitting across from her, his umbrella in hand. He smiled tightly at John.

"Doctor." Sherlock glanced at him before her eyes zeroed back in on her brother.

"How's Sarah, John? How was the lilo?"

"Sofa Sherlock, it was the sofa." She looked back at him and hummed in reluctant agreement.

"How... never mind. What happened?" Sherlock glanced over her shoulder at the still empty holes where the windows had been the day before.

"Oh gas explosion, apparently." Then she turned back to her brother.

"I can't. Stuff I've got on right now is just too big. Besides if you're so interested, go and investigate yourself." Mycroft shook his head.

"I couldn't possibly be away from the office for any length of time. Not with the Korean elections so close..." John raised an eyebrow at him while Sherlock ignored both of them and began to tune her violin. Mycroft smiled thinly.

"Ah well you don't need to know about that. Besides a case like this requires leg work. Doctor Watson, perhaps you can make my sister see sense. I'm afraid she can be very intransigent." Mycroft stood and Sherlock, who had been polishing her bow, pointed it at him like a weapon. He glared at her and walked over to John handing him a file as he explained the case of the missing missile plans, and the man Andrew West who had been found with his head smashed in on the train tracks. Mycroft then left, Sherlock playing him out to a grating out of tune March. John sighed and sat down as Sherlock retuned her violin.

"Why did you lie? You've got nothing on that's why the wall took a pounding." She looked up at him and hummed noncommittally.

"Why shouldn't I?" John looked at her a bit closer and wondered if she'd actually been to the hospital. Whoever did her stitches wasn't very good. They were uneven and awkwardly spaced.

"Ah sibling rivalry, now we're getting somewhere." Her phone rang.


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note: OMG Two uploads in one day! It's a miracle! Anyway, I don't own anything. I did have to change around the introduction of Jim from IT a bit. **

2. Where She Began

"Sherlock Holmes. When? Alright we're on our way." Sherlock flipped her phone closed and stood looking down as if just noticing how much cleavage was showing. She fastened a few buttons and snatched up a rubber band from the desk tossing her shoulder length wavy hair up into a sloppy ponytail. Then she turned to John.

"That was Lestrade, I've been summoned. You coming?" John thought about what had happened last time he'd gone, and last time he hadn't been there. Glancing at the stitches on her forehead he nodded.

"If you want me to." Sherlock grinned wickedly.

"Of course, I'd be lost without my blogger." What seemed like minutes later they arrived at Scotland Yard. Detective inspector Lestrade was waiting for them and quickly took them upstairs to the homicide department.

"You like the weird cases, the unexpected ones yeah?" Sherlock nodded.

"Obviously." Lestrade nodded once and opened the door to the department.

"You'll love this one. You know that explosion?"

"Gas leak, wasn't it?" Sherlock verbally brushed it aside.

"No."

"No?" He had her attention now John noted but he wasn't sure why Lestrade had called them in on this.

"No, made to look like one, pretty well done too. Hardly anything left of the place except a strong box. A very strong box. And we found this inside it." They had reached his office now and he pulled on a glove and handed Sherlock an envelope. On it, hand written in blue ink was the name, 'Sherlock Holmes'. Sherlock took the envelope carefully.

"You haven't opened it." Lestrade shook his head.

"It's addressed to you. We've x rayed it, it's not booby trapped." Sherlock rolled her eyes and began to examine the envelope.

"How reassuring. Nice stationary, bohemian." Lestrade raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"It's from the Czech republic. He used a fountain pen, iridium nib. Good calligraphy not something most men would know how to do." John raised an eyebrow himself.

"He?"

"Obviously. The strokes on the letters are larger; most women have smaller hands and don't write with quite so much force. This was done to impress yes but whoever addressed it was under some small amount of duress his hand shook ever so slightly see the slight deviation here on the H? He's right handed; the angle of the slant on the letters tells us that. Hand me that letter opener." John gapped and handed the detective the letter opener. She carefully slit open the letter as tense silence filled the room. She looked into the envelope and John saw her eyes widen. She reached in with her black gloved hand and pulled out an Iphone.

"That's the phone. The pink lady's phone!" John was stunned and Lestrade looked confused.

"What from a study in pink?"

"Well obviously it's not the same phone but it's meant... wait a study in pink? You read his blog?!" She whirled on them glaring.

"We all do. Do you really not know that the earth goes round the sun?" Sherlock angrily rolled her eyes and went back to the phone as Donavan giggled.

"No it's not the same phone. This one's brand new. But someone's gone through a lot of trouble to make it look like the same phone. Which means your blog has a far wider readership." Sherlock trapped the top button and unlocked the phone with a swipe of her gloved hand.

_'You have one new message.'_ Then the phone let out five loud pips and dinged. Sherlock flipped it to get a better look at the picture that went with the pips. Lestrade frowned and ran a hand through his hair.

"What are we supposed to make of that? An estate agents photo and the bloody Greenwich pips?" Sherlock examined the photo a bit closer as she replied.

"It's a warning. Some secret societies used to send each other dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that. He's telling us it's going to happen again. I've seen this place before, come on!" Sherlock was rushing for the door when Lestrade called after her.

"Sher, what's going to happen again?" She turned mid step and imitated an explosion with her hands.

"Boom! Hurry up you two!" All three of them piled into the back of a cab and Sherlock ordered him to drive to Baker Street. She rushed inside leaving John and Lestrade to work out who was going to pay the cabbie. Once Lestrade had paid and they rushed inside they found Sherlock standing in front of the last empty flat in the building. 221C.

"I've already called Mrs. Hudson to open the door." Lestrade looked at her worried.

"Are you sure you're up for this Sher?" She glared at him.

"Well you were in the hospital last night, I'm allowed to wonder if you're alright to be on this case at all." John raised an eyebrow.

"So you were in the hospital?" Sherlock rolled her eyes at him as Mrs. Hudson's door opened.

"Of course I was in the hospital I had a minor head injury." Mrs. Hudson frowned slightly.

"We had to have them sedate her to get her in the ambulance, she really didn't want to go to the hospital. Why did you want to look at this flat again Sherlock, you had a look when you decided to rent upstairs. I still can't get anyone interested in this flat." Sherlock interrupted her seeming not to hear her.

"This doors been opened, recently." Mrs. Hudson shook her head.

"Can't have been, that's the only key. We did try to call you John but your phone kept sending me to voicemail. But this flat's got the damp pretty bad. I expect that's why I haven't been able to get anyone interested. That's the bad thing about basements isn't it?" Sherlock ignored her and having successfully unlocked the door went inside followed by John and Lestrade who nodded politely at Mrs. Hudson. She sighed and went back to her flat.

"Shoes." John commented lightly as the trio stood looking at the pair of shoes sitting in the middle of the room. Sherlock took a step forward and John caught her arm.

"He's a bomber, remember." She nodded and bent down so she was nearly lying on the floor. She was inches from the pair of shoes when a loud song began to play and all three of them jumped.

_ 'I'm bringing sexy back!_' Sherlock looked down at the pink phone pressed a finger to her lips and answered it.

"Hello?" The voice that answered was female and shaking.

"Hello sexy. I've sent you a little puzzle just to say hi."

"Who is this? Why are you crying?" Lestrade and John were both tense and Lestrade was about to ask her to put the phone on speaker but she shot him a look and he decided against it.

"I'm not crying. I'm typing and this stupid bitch is reading it out." Sherlock nodded slightly staring down at the shoes in front of her.

"The curtain rises." She whispered it to no one in particular but everyone heard it.

"What do you mean Sherlock?" John asked but she waved a silencing hand at him.

"That's a very poetic way of putting it, very sexy. You have twelve hours to work out my little puzzle or I'm going to be so very naughty." There was a sob and the woman hung up the phone.

"Sherlock what did you mean the 'curtain rises'?" Sherlock glanced at the pink phone before sliding it into her jacket pocket.

"I've been expecting this for some time now. I'll need to take these to Barts. John would you run upstairs and grab me a pair of gloves and one of the evidence bags from the top drawer of the file cabinet. Be careful which bag you grab! Some of them have experiments in them!" John raced out and Sherlock pulled out her phone and began texting someone.

"Sherlock, what's going on?" Lestrade demanded as Sherlock typed away on her phone.

"Someone sent me a mystery. I've got twelve hours to figure it out or he'll blow up the woman he's using to speak on the phone." Lestrade paled.

"And all you've got to go on is shoes?! That's ridiculous! It's not possible!" Sherlock glanced at him condescendingly.

"Difficult not impossible." John returned moments later and Sherlock threw her black leather gloves at him pulling in the plastic ones and carefully placing the shoes inside. She thought for a second and pulled the pink phone out of her pocket tossing it to Lestrade.

"Try and trace the call if you can, I doubt it will do any good but you can try. John don't you have to work soon?" Sherlock took the bag and left quickly leaving both men looking confused at each other.

Sherlock opened her phone and clicked open the text from Molly Hooper.

'Be glad to open the lab 4 you Sherlock. May pop by to see what you're working on. MH'

'Thank you Molly. It's a sensitive case. SH.'

'See you soon. MH.' Soon they arrived at Barts and Sherlock quickly paid the cabbie and went inside with the bag of shoes in hand. On her way inside she was texting John and someone bummed into her.

"Oh ma god I'm so sorry!" The man was shorter than her wearing a button up shirt that was unbuttoned at the top two buttons. This was loosely tucked into a pair of black slacks which in turn lead to a pair of scuffed but nice and sensible black loafers. His hair was styled to look carelessly rumpled and he grinned wide at Sherlock. It was then that Molly popped her head around the corner.

"Jim? Oh hello Sherlock! I wasn't expecting you so soon I haven't even unlocked the lab yet."

"Yes I can see you've been busy. I'm on a time limit, keys Molly!" She nodded and dodged back into the office. She emerged seconds later and before she could waist Sherlock's time by introducing her to the man who continued to watch her Sherlock snatched the keys from her hand and walked quickly away.

"May need your help later Molly. I'll text you if I need something." Sherlock called over her shoulder as she disappeared down the hall toward the lab. Molly waved weakly and sighed.

"Sorry about that Jim." The man shook his head and looked back down the hall.

"Nah it's alright babe. She the one ya'll told me about?" He spoke with a thick Texas accent and Molly nodded. Sherlock meanwhile had reached the lab and was donning new gloves as she stared closer at the shoes. They were retro, an older sort of style, but no these shoes were old. The mud caked on the shoes was dried. She took a small knife from her tools laid out on the table and scrapped a bit of mud off the bottom of one of the shoes into a Petri dish. She set to work in earnest disturbed every so often by the ping of her phone receiving a text. Sometime later, couldn't have been more than ten minutes, Lestrade stopped by and dropped off the pink phone on her request. She waved him off as she went back to examining the mud from the shoes. Soon John came in.

"Ah John! How was work?"

"Cut short, Lestrade got me off so I could help." Sherlock nodded still wrapped up in her microscope. There was a buzz and Sherlock called out to John.

"Could you hand me my phone please?" John looked around and saw no sign of the detectives mobile.

"Where is it?"

"Jacket." John looked at her, she was still wearing her jacket. He sighed deeply reached around her waist into her jacket. He was very uncomfortable and his hand shook jostling her arm and her microscope.

"Careful." He finally succeeded in retrieving the phone and looked at the read out on the screen.

"It's a text from your brother, Mycroft."

"Delete it."

"Delete it? He's texted you nine times, and it's all about that case you won't take."

"The missile plans are out of the country by now. It can't be too important or Mycroft would have cancelled his dentist appointment, he never texts if he can call. So why oh why is my brother trying to bore me to death when someone else is being so very delightfully interesting?"

"You do realize that there's a woman who might die right?"

"So? This hospital is full of people dying doctor. Why don't you cry at their bedsides and see what good it does them." Thankfully at that moment the door opened and Molly entered with a sheet of paper.

"Got the test back on that residue you found on the shoes. You were right, chlorine. Just a trace of it though." The door opened behind her as Sherlock took the paper and muttered.

"Of course I was right I just needed to be absolutely certain." The man who entered was unfamiliar to John and made Molly blush as he slung his arm around her waist.

"Nice to see ya again, Sherlock Holmes. Sorry about nearly runnin y'all over in the hall earlier." Sherlock glanced up at him. Molly blushed deeply and made proper introductions.

"This is my boyfriend Jim, he works upstairs in I.T. that's how we met an office romance." She said grinning a bit. Sherlock went back to her microscope with a short.

"Cheat." John frowned at her and Molly's eyes went wide.

"Sorry?" Sherlock glanced back up and then went back to her work.

"Nothing. Neat." Jim made his way over to Sherlock's side and Sherlock tensed slightly.

"Ma sweet Molly's told me all about what ya do? Is this one of yer cases?" Sherlock faked a tight smile as Jim leaned on the table.

"Something like that." Jim's watch beeped and he glanced down at it.

"Aw dang. I gotta get goin' sweetie. I'm sorry but I got a meetin' I gotta get to. I'll see ya later. It was nice to meet y'all." He said watching Sherlock from the door. She didn't move and he kissed Molly on the cheek and left. The minute the door closed behind him Molly turned to Sherlock.

"What did you mean cheat? He's not a cheat! We're happy."

"I'm sure you are Molly and domestic life looks great on you, you've gained three pound since I last saw you." Sherlock said turning her chair to face Molly who stuttered.

"Two and a half..." Sherlock shook her head.

"Three."

"Why would you say he's a cheat?!" Sherlock sighed.

"Where should I start. His hair for example, styled perfectly to look like he's either just got off a motor cycle or out of a topless vehicle trying to imply he has the money for them and the bad sense to drive them in London. Then there's his shirt, a faint trace of lipstick on the collar, but it's not the shade of lipstick you wear. The stuff on his shirt was purple, he tried to get it out but it's impossible to get that color out of a white shirt. Then there's his belt buckle, significantly larger than average even for someone from Texas. Adding to that the fact that he left his number on the table when he was leaning here and I think you should break it off and save yourself the trouble later." Molly stood there for a moment tears building in her eyes.

"Why do you have to spoil everything." She rushed out crying. Sherlock turned to John a bit confused.

"Not so good Sherlock."

"Well isn't it kinder. I'm saving her time." John frowned deeply.

"No Sherlock that want kind. That was... defiantly not kind!" Sherlock sighed and turned back to the shoes.

"So."

"Yes."

"You know what I do. Go ahead."

"No I'm not going to stand here and let you humiliate me."

"Come on. A second opinion a fresh eye it helps me. Really." He sighed and began. He got more than the average idiot she'd admit that but he did miss most of it.

"Good. Really good. You did miss nearly everything of importance but you did well." John rolled his eyes.

"The owner loved these, scrubbed them clean, and bleached them when they got discolored. Changed the laces five, no six times. There's still flakes of his skin on the laces, also meaning he suffered from exima. The soles are well worn, but more so on the inside so he had weak arches. According to the analysis the mud caked on the sole is Sussex mud with London mud overlaying it. There's also a very faint smell of chlorine, meaning he was probably at a pool of some kind. And they aren't retro they're original, twenty years old. Limited edition with the two blue stripes." John stared.

"Twenty years?! But they look new."Sherlock nodded.

"Someone's kept them that way."

"How do you know where the mud came from?" Sherlock pointed at the beeping computer.

"Pollen, clear as a map reference to me. So what happened to the owner of these shoes? Clearly something bad, he loved these shoes he'd never have left them filthy. So a boy with big feet comes up from Sussex to London... oh. OH! Carl Powers! Carl Powers, John!" He frowned.

"What's that?"

"It's where I began. Come on I need my equipment at Baker Street." Grabbing the shoes and placing them back in their evidence bag she raced for the door closely followed by John.


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note: I tried to upload this as one chapter but it crashed the story…. I guess 3000 words is a bit much for one chapter but I had to go back and remove the story and put it back up. To the one person who already commented I couldn't get to it so if you would be so kind as to review again I would appreciate it. This is obnoxious. I own nothing.**

3. Poison

Once they were in the taxi Sherlock began to explain Carl Powers and how something had seemed off about his death. As she did she texted Lestrade at Scotland Yard.

'Lestrade. I need an old case file. Victims name is Carl Powers, coroner's report should say he died off drowning caused by an unexplained seizure he had in the water. I need it now; the shoes belong to Carl Powers. SH ' seconds later she received a reply.

'Digging it up now. I'll have it to you as soon as I can. GL'

'Good. Hurry the clock is ticking only six hours left. SH ' Almost an hour later Lestrade arrived at baker street with the case file.

"Sorry. I would have had it sooner but I had a bit of an issue getting the file keeper to cooperate." Sherlock simply snatched the file from his hand and laid it open on the kitchen table. John shrugged at Lestrade when he raised an eyebrow at him.

"She's been like this for an hour, ever since we got back from Barts. I swear if it wasn't Sherlock I'd be worried. Any luck tracing the call?" Lestrade shook his head.

"Nothing. Can't even seem to get a lock on the number on the pink phone. Someone had to buy it but there's no record anywhere." Sherlock shushed them both and took a small scalpel to the inside sole of the shoe. An hour later Mrs. Hudson was bringing them up some dinner when Sherlock suddenly whispered.

"Poison!"

"Sorry?" Sherlock smacked both palms into the table on either side of the microscope causing Mrs. Hudson to jump and leave the room rather quickly.

"Carstridium Botulinum! One of the most deadly poisons known to man." John looked at her confused.

"But if he was poisoned why wouldn't it show up in the autopsy?"

"It's nearly undetectable, no one would have been looking for it. But it would have been the easiest thing in the world to introduce it to his exima medicine. There was still traces of it on the inside of the shoes from where he put the medication on his feet which is why they had to go."

"So you've solved it?" She nodded and opened her laptop which was open to her website which was waiting for her to post something new.

"So now we contact our friendly bomber, stop the clock." She quickly typed out,

'Carl Powers, murdered. Carstridium Botulinum introduced into his exima medication causing paralysis in the pool, result: drowning.' A split second later the phone rang. Sherlock glanced at John and clicked the answer button. This time though she put it on speaker.

"Hello."

"Clever you. Come and get me. Help. Please help me." Sherlock nodded at John who pulled out his mobile and called Lestrade.

"Give us an address. We'll come get you but you have to tell us where you are."

"I'm in a car park."


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors Note: I would like to thank everyone for sticking with this story despite the problems that the site had with getting it up. Hopefully these problems are gone… Fingers crossed. No one caught my doctor who reference in the first chapter! Sad face. Anyway, as demanded here is chapter four. I own nothing.**

4. Two Faced

A few hours later Sherlock and John sat in Lestrade's office listening to him tell them about the woman in the car. Sherlock knew she wasn't that important though. Obviously she'd been chosen for a reason but Sherlock had no other information to go on yet. She needed more data first. She set her feet up on Lestrade's desk.

"So our bomber is also the murder from all those years ago." Lestrade frowned as Sherlock folded her hands in front of her and stared off into the distance.

"But why? Why would someone who got away with murder twenty years ago want to go back and prove that it was murder?" Sherlock kept staring off at the wall.

"Two reasons, one he wants to get caught. Or two, he knows we can't get to him. "

"But what was the point, why would anyone do this?" Sherlock thought back to the large smiling face she'd shot into the wall.

"I can't be the only one in the world who gets bored." The phone beeped.

_ 'You have one new message.'_

_ Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

"Four pips, not five." John commented.

"First test passed it would seem. And this is the second one. Looks abandoned, wouldn't you say?" Sherlock handed the phone over to Lestrade. The picture this time was a car, license plate and all.

"Right I'll see if it's been reported." Detective Donovan tapped her knuckles on the door and held up a phone.

"Freak? It's for you." Sherlock took the phone, ignoring the look that John and to a lesser degree Lestrade sent Donovan. She stepped out of the office into the small hallway.

"Hello?" This voice on the other end of the line was male and shaking. There was some sort of noise on the line but Sherlock could clearly make out what he said.

"It's ok you've gone to the police, but don't trust them."

"Who is this? Is this you again?"

"Clever you guessing about Carl Powers. I never liked him, he laughed at me. So I stopped him laughing."

"And you've stolen another voice I presume."

"This is about you and me."

"Who are you?" There was a loud noise from the line Sherlock frowned as she heard John walk up behind her.

"What is that sound?"

"That is the sound of life Sherlock. But don't worry, I can soon fix that. You solved my last puzzle in nine hours. This time you have eight." There was a click on the line and Sherlock turned and found John right where she'd expected him behind her and slightly to the left watching her.

"Was it him?"

"We have eight hours." Lestrade popped his head around the corner and motioned for Sherlock to come back.

"We've got it! Let's go."

As it turned out the car had been abandoned near an old construction site. Sherlock glanced around taking in as much information as possible as Lestrade told them about the missing driver of the car. The driver door sat open and there was blood all over the seat.

"Car was hired yesterday morning by one Ian Monkford, a banker. Paid in cash. Told his wife he was going on a business trip, but he never arrived. And yes the blood is Monkford's the DNA checks out." Sherlock nodded as she pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. She ignored Sally who was talking to john about how it was a bad idea to hang around her. That was an old argument by now. Instead she focused on the puzzle in front of her. She glanced over the car calculating just how much blood was on the seat the amount was too perfect. She reached over and searched the glove compartment. The only thing of any interest was a business card for the company that had rented Ian Monkford the car. Janus Cars.

"No body?" She asked straitening.

"Not yet." Sally interjected. Sherlock ignored her entirely instead turning to Lestrade.

"Get the samples sent to the lab." Then she walked away. Lestrade turned to Sally.

"You heard her, we've got a case to solve get going." Sally glared at him indignantly.

Sherlock walked over to the woman the police were questioning, clearly the wife of the missing man. John followed her.

"Mrs. Monkford?" Sherlock asked pretending to be choked up. The woman, a moderately pretty brunette about a foot shorter than Sherlock herself, nodded sniffling.

"Yes, but I've already spoken with two police officers." John spoke up.

"We're not from the police. We're..." Sherlock cut across him before he could spoil her plan. Sticking out her hand to shake she said.

"Sherlock Holmes, a very old friend of your husbands. We grew up together." Mrs. Monkford shook her hand as Sherlock let the fake tears fall.

"I'm sorry, I don't think he ever mentioned you." Sherlock frowned deeply, looking truly shocked. John wondered why she hadn't mentioned knowing the victim.

"Oh he must have done. This is horrible, isn't it? I mean I only saw him the other day. Same old Ian, not a care in the world." Mrs. Monkford frowned.

"My husband has been depressed for months. Who are you?" Sherlock sniffled.

"Really strange that he hired a car, that's a bit suspicious isn't it?" Mrs. Monkford twitched.

"No, he just forgot to renew the tax on the car, that's all." Sherlock faked a water laugh.

"Well that was Ian, that was Ian all over." Mrs. Monkford looked outraged.

"No it wasn't!" Suddenly, much to John's surprise Sherlock snapped back into her normal self. The tears stopped and her tone was that cryptic almost icy one he'd learned to recognize as the one she used most often while on a case.

"Wasn't it? Interesting." She turned and walked away her coat and hair blowing in the wind that brought the promise of rain from off the Thames. John hurried after her.

"What the hell was that?" She wiped the tears from her face.

"What do you mean?"

"Why'd you lie to her?"

"Oh well that's easy, people don't like to tell you things. But they love to contradict you. It's basic human nature. Past tense, did you notice?" John was beyond confused now.

"Sorry what?"

"I referred to her husband in the past tense, she joined in. Bit early, they've only just found the car." John desperately tried to fit the pieces together.

"You think she murdered her husband." Sherlock shook her head.

"No, definitely not. That's not a mistake a killer would make." John nodded.

"I see." Sherlock turned to look at him as they walked away from the crime scene. She raided a condescending eyebrow at him he sighed.

"Ok no I don't see. Where now?" Sherlock pulled something out of her pocket but before she could explain Sally called out to John from behind the crime tape.

"Fishing! Try fishing!"

"Janus Cars. This was in the glove compartment."


	5. Chapter 5

**Authors Note: Man I'm on a role! Whoop! But anyway, I've got some other stuff in the works but I figure one at a time. I'd like to finish this story, I haven't finished anything in a while. So keep those reviews coming, they are very helpful motivators! I own nothing.**

5. The Clue

Two hours later they finally arrived at the headquarters of Janus Cars, London traffic was horrible, especially since it had started pouring down outside. They were shown into the office of Mr. Ewart, the owner of Janus Cars. Sherlock didn't trust him on site.

"I honestly don't know how I could help you." He was talking more to John as Sherlock prowled around his office looking for clues. John jotted down something in that ridiculous note book he'd taken to keeping. Sherlock had only ever seen him use it as a reference for his stupid blog, but that wasn't what she was worried about right now. John was asking all the usual questions.

"Mr. Monkford hired the car from you yesterday?" Mr. Ewart nodded.

"Yeah lovely motor, Mazda RX-8. I'd love one." Sherlock leaned over and pointed at the far wall of the office.

"Is that one?" She asked innocently knowing that the answer would be no. Mr. Ewart looked where she was pointing. She quickly glanced down examining his tan line, a very distinct tan line.

"Nah, they're all jags. I can see you don't know much about cars." He smiled condescendingly at her and she brushed her pony tail back over her shoulder.

"But surely you can afford one, a Mazda I mean."

"Yeah, but you know how it is, it's like working in a sweet shop. Once you start picking up the licorice allsorts when does it all stop?" He began to scratch his arm absent mindedly and Sherlock noticed a speck of blood appear on his shirt sleeve. John continued with the questions.

"But you didn't know Mr. Monkford?" Mr. Ewart shook his head.

"Nah he was just a client. Came in here and hired one of my cars. No idea what could have happened to him, poor sod." Sherlock interrupted before John could continue.

"Nice holiday Mr. Ewart?" He looked at her confused. She motioned to his tan.

"You've been away haven't you?" He shook his head.

"Nah, sun bed I'm afraid. Far too busy to get away. My wife would love it though, a bit of sun." Sherlock nodded and reached into her pocket.

"Have you got any change for the cigarette machine? I noticed one on the way in and I'm gasping." Mr. Ewart pulled out his wallet and opened it. He pulled out some change and Sherlock handed him the bill. John was a bit disappointed; he thought she was on the nicotine patch. She smiled at him.

"Thank you. And thank you very much for your time Mr. Ewart. You've been very helpful. Come on John!" She left and John followed close behind. He paused at the cigarette machine but Sherlock just kept going.

"Wait didn't you."

"Nicotine patches, remember? I'm doing well."

"Then why?"

"I needed to look inside his wallet."

"Why?"

"Because Mr. Ewart's a liar."

The rain had slowed to a light sprinkling by the time Sherlock arrived at Bart's and began to examine Ian Monkford's blood. She had just added a chemical compound to the blood when the phone rang again. Sherlock paused then answered it.

"Hello." The crying man was still on the line and it frustrated Sherlock a little to have to speak through pawns.

"The clue's in the name, Janus Cars." Sherlock frowned; she didn't need him to give her clues. But the bigger question was the one she now asked.

"Why would you be giving me a clue?"

"Why does anyone do anything? Because I'm bored. We were made for each other Sherlock."

"Then talk to me in your own voice."

"Patience." The dial tone sounded and Sherlock glanced down at the blood in the Petri dish. It was sizzling away. She had been right. She called up Lestrade and told him to meet her and John in the impound lot where they had towed the car. She grabbed her coat and scarf and headed out to the lobby of Barts where she found John fast asleep.

"John! Wake up." He started awake and sat up rubbing at his eyes.

"Have you solved it?"

"We are meeting up with Lestrade come on, there are only four hours left." They loaded into the back of the cab and Sherlock remained silent for the entire ride to the lot. Detective Inspector Lestrade was waiting for them. Sherlock waited no time on pleasantries.

"How much blood was on that seat do you think?" Lestrade frowned and rubbed the back of his head.

"How much? I don't know, about a pint?" Sherlock shook her head.

"Not about, exactly a pint. That was their first mistake. The blood is Ian Monkford's but it's been frozen." Lestrade stared.

"Frozen?" Sherlock nodded.

"Yes there are clear signs. I think Ian Monkford gave a pint of his blood some time ago and that's what they spread on the seat." It was John's turn to frown.

"They?"

"Janus Cars. The clue's in the name."

"The god with two faces?" Sherlock nodded a bit surprised that John recognized that bit of Greek mythology.

"Exactly, they provide a very special service. If you've got any kind of problem, financial at a guess here Ian Monkford was a banker, Janus Cars will help you disappear. He couldn't see a way out. But if he were to vanish, if the car he hired was discovered with blood all over the driver's seat then all his problems would go away." John nodded.

"So wait where is he?" Sherlock closed the passenger side door of the car.

"Columbia." Lesrade raised an eyebrow.

"Columbia?" Sherlock nodded.

"Mr. Ewart of Janus Cars had a twenty thousand Columbian peso note in his wallet. He told us he hadn't been abroad recently, but when I asked him about the cars I saw his tan line clearly. No one wears a shirt on a sun bed. That plus his arm…" Lestrade interrupted looking a bit confused.

"His arm?"

"Yes, he kept scratching it. Obviously irritating him, and bleeding. Why? Because he'd recently had a booster jab, Hep B probably. Difficult to tell at that distance. Conclusion: He'd just come back from settling Ian Monkford into his new life in Columbia. Mrs. Monkford collects the life insurance and splits it with Janus Cars."

"Mrs. Monkford?" Sherlock nodded at John.

"Oh yes, she's in on it too. Now why don't you go and arrest them Inspector, that's what you do best. I need to let our friendly bomber know that the case is solved. I am on fire!" With that Sherlock turned and started to walk away. John could see the spring in her step. She was on a crime solving roll and she was happy about it.

As soon as they got back to Baker Street Sherlock snatched up her laptop and typed out her message on her website.

'Congratulations to Ian Monkford on his relocation to Columbia.'

She hit the submit button and waited. A few seconds later the phone rang. Sherlock put it on speaker phone.

"He says you can come and fetch me. Help. Help me please!"


End file.
